


Risingson

by rainbowdracula



Series: Deditionem [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Exhibitionism, Flogging, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Praise Kink, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Peter return to the place where they first met, and enjoy quite the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risingson

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha I don't want to talk about how long this took to write.
> 
> Someone gets (consensually) whipped with a flaming cat 'o nine tails. Talks of threesomes/foursomes/fivesomes.

"Toy-like people make me boy-like.

They're invisible, when the trip it flips,

They get physical, way below my lips."

\- _Risingson,_ Massive Attack

 

Peter was _sweet._

It was nothing to get him like this, kneeling on the ground as Matt sat at the table, head pillowed on his thigh. Never had to fight to get him on his knees, never had to get farther than the threat of punishment to get him to behave. Matt's darling boy, so afraid of being anything but good.

Matt's hand threaded through Peter's soft hair, the other dancing across his book. Peter sighed dreamily, nuzzling closer. In the background, soft classical music played. The Saturday afternoon was quiet and calm, and Matt smiled.

"You are such a lovely boy," Matt said. Peter shifted again, look up. "Always so sweet."

Peter's hands gripped Matt's shirt and pants. Matt knew he was pleased, but praise made him flush.

"Don't be so embarrassed, it's true," Matt said. "Always so good for me. It seems a shame to keep you all to myself."

Peter made an inquisitive little noise.

"How about I bring you back to _Avenger?_ " Matt asked. "Show them my smart boy? All those eyes on you, knowing none of them can touch?"

"Y-yes, sir," Peter stuttered. Matt massaged his scalp.

"Come up here," Matt said. Peter stumbled up to his feet and clamored up into his lap. Matt held him close. "Would you like that? We'll only go if you want to."

"Yes," Peter murmured. "I would...we don't have to _do_ anything? If we go?"

"Of course not," Matt said. "You're the boss."

 

-

 

Matt was order.

Peter was sometimes flabbergasted he was considered an adult allowed to handle dangerous chemicals. Most of his life has been spent as the "conductor of the Hot Mess Express" (MJ's words), but with Matt there was no room for such things. Only rules.

Rules like this—

Matt had specific guidelines for what Peter was going to wear at the club, safely stored at his apartment. He was fretting with his overnight bag when MJ poked her head into his room, crazy eyed.

"We've got a code red," MJ said. " _Harry Osbourne is back in New York._ "

"Oh my God," Peter said, dropping his underwear in shock.

"He just messaged me, asking about you," she said. "I don't know when I added him."

"Tell him I died," Peter said seriously. "Wasn't he dating an underwear model?"

"Like that was ever going to last," MJ scoffed. Gwen appeared behind her, peering at her phone.

"Harry Osbourne just liked all of our group shots in the _Old Roomies in a New Place_ album?" she said. "When did I add him?"

"And now he's messaging me again," MJ groaned, her phone lighting up. "Wants to know your number, the fucking creeper."

"Tell him I'm dating a hot older lawyer who helps the defenseless and isn't an asshole," Peter said. "He also has a _massive_ dick."

Gwen cackled. "Don't let Osbourne ruin your freaky date night with your largely proportion hot older lawyer boyfriend. Commit those taboo sex acts!"

"I will," Peter said. "Harry Osbourne can go choke on his rich boy tears."

"Here, here," MJ and Gwen chorused.

Peter took a cab to Matt's place in Hell's Kitchen; Matt answered the door with his Dom smirk.

The lights were off. Matt was already in a tailored sports coat and a fitted Oxford. Peter's own outfit was laid out on the coffee table. The apartment was a dark dream, awash in spiraling neon.

"Strip," Matt ordered. "Completely."

Peter shuddered, and complied.

Bare, he stepped back, and Matt stepped forward. His big hands slid down Peter's body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They thumbed his nipples, and rubbed his smooth thighs.

"You shaved," Matt whispered, hot words right in Peter's ear. "Good boy."

He slipped his fingers further back, grinning against Peter's skin when he traced his entrance.

"Very good boy," Matt praised. "Now get pretty for me."

Peter was allowed one of Matt's button downs, which was going to hang off of him, and a microscopic pair of shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Clothes on, Matt stepped up behind him. In his hands was a strip of leather – a collar. Peter's heart raced.

Matt tightened it firmly around Peter's neck.

"Perfect," Matt said.

 

-

 

The bouncer at the doors of _Avenger_ gave Matt a wide grin.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Mister Murdock," he said, and then gave Peter a long once over. "Though I can see why."

"Thank you, Sam," Matt replied. Peter stayed quiet.

Inside, _Avenger_ was still an overwhelming pot of velvet and leather. But now Peter had Matt's firm strength to lean on, shelter from the storm.

"Tonight's stage show is going to be interesting," Matt said. "Let's get a booth."

Despite the fact he was supposedly helping guide Matt through the club, there was no mistaking who was leading who. Matt settled down into a booth, and Peter sat in his lap, which was probably his favorite thing to do. The stage show hadn't started yet. Peter rested his cheek on Matt's shoulder, letting himself breath and fall into that place where he wasn't Awkward Parker – instead, he was Matt Murdock's _boy._ A weirdly comforting thought the Peter from six months ago would've scoffed at, and then secretly scuttled away to jerk off to.

Peter mouthed at Matt's jaw, and Matt indulged him, rubbing Peter's back. He flagged down a waiter.

"A plate of grapes," he told them. "Put it on the Murdock tab."

They nodded, and left to fetch their order. Peter wanted to ask about the grapes, but knew better to speak without being spoken to. Matt's hands drifted lower, up Peter's shirt.

"Are people looking at you, darling?" Matt murmured into his ear. Peter spared a quick glance around, and sure enough there were a handful of interested stares.

"Yes, sir," Peter said. Matt smiled.

"I knew they would," Matt said. "Such a good boy. They can only look, not lay a single finger on you, though. Do you like that?"

"Yes, sir," Peter admitted. He hid his face into Matt's neck, cheeks burning. The waiter came with their order, placing the grapes on the table.

Matt plucked one, bringing it to Peter's lips. Peter ate it, flush deepening on his cheeks. They shared the grapes like that, Matt's mouth taking every opportunity to trail down to Peter's wrist. Peter flushed and squirmed, feeling like there was a great big spotlight on him. The club was like an impressionist painting – the low light, the murmured voices, the click of stiletto heels on the black floors.

"Is this the boy you keep talking about, Matthew?"

Peter turned his head, startled. There was a woman, the kind that caused murders and traffic accidents – red lips, red nails, red heels, red hair against a sea of pale skin and black clothing. Peter did not dare meet her eyes, instead focusing on the tall, broad man behind her. His hair was dark, falling in a curtain around his face, and his chest was bare; he wore black pants and black boots, combat style. He had a prosthetic arm, and Peter immediately recognized it as one of the top-of-the-line, bleeding edge Stark Industries' models.

There was a collar around his neck, attached to a leash the Domme was holding loosely. The man did not seem inclined to disobey her directions – in fact, his face was serene like a Buddhist monk.

"Yes, this is my Peter," Matthew said. "Peter, this is Madame Natasha. She's one of the professional dominatrices here. Say hello."

"Hello, Madame," Peter murmured shyly. Madame Natasha laughed, throaty and dark.

"You are a sweet one, aren't you?" she purred, scratching Peter's hair with her perfectly manicured nails. It was very pleasant, and Peter shivered. "It's nice to meet you Peter. You've got the ever-stoic Matthew in knots, you know?"

"I do?" Peter said, and then caught himself. "Sorry, I did not know, Madame. I'm sorry, Madame."

Madame Natasha laughed again. "You always swoop down on the new ones, Matthew."

Matthew shrugged, and kissed Peter's burning cheek. "He was too lovely to resist. Are you and Bucky preforming today?"

The man – Bucky – shifted, perhaps in anticipation. Madame Natasha smiled.

"Oh, you'll see," she said airily. "Bucky, why don't you say hello to Peter?"

Bucky immediately snapped to full awareness, eyes zeroing in on Peter. He was in very good shape, Peter realized. His belly felt a little strange.

"Hello, Peter," he rumbled. Peter swallowed.

"Hello, Bucky," Peter murmured. Bucky tilted his head, assessing. Matt chuckled, nuzzling Peter's neck.

"That's a very dirty idea, Tasha," he said playfully. A thrill shot down Peter's spine. "But you should go get ready for the show."

Madame Natasha gave another dark laugh, and tugged Bucky along. His expression slipped back into serene, following sedately behind her.

"Would you like to get to know Bucky better, Peter?" Matt whispered in his ear. "I think he'd like to get to know you too."

"I don't know, sir, he's very, um..." Peter mumbled. Matt smiled, and kissed his cheek.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to, sweet boy," Matt promised. "We can talk about it later, if you're interested. What's your color, darling?"

"Green," Peter said, and wrapped his arms around Matt's neck, hugging him close. Matt kissed his hair, down to the tip of his nose, and finally his lips in a languid kiss.

"I want you to describe the stage show to me, smart boy," Matt said. "It's going to be a real treat."

Peter turned so his face was towards the stage but his cheek was still on Matt's shoulder. The house lights went down, the stage lights went up. The music changed into something deeper and harder. The voices lowered to excited murmurs. Peter bit his lip.

Bucky walked out first, tall and broad and gleaming in the lights. He moved with an elegance only a natural performer had, sliding to his knees in the middle of the stage.

"Bucky walked out on stage," Peter whispered. "He went down his knees in the middle of it. He looks..."

"Like he was made to do this?" Matt asked. "Bucky's favorite place in the world is on his knees."

He did look blissed out already, head tilted back and eyes closed against the red-filtered light like he was martyr experiencing revelation. When Madame Natasha's heels clicked against the stage floor, he shivered and bit his lip. There was a flogger in her hand.

"Natasha can make anyone bend," Matt murmured. "She's not nice like me. She thinks I'm too soft on you, giving you bad habits."

"I like it, sir," Peter assured. "You make me feel so good."

"Thank you, sweet boy, I'm glad," Matt said. "Pay attention, now."

Natasha clicked her tongue. "All the way to the floor."

Bucky sunk lower, forehead to the floor with his arms braced for balance. He didn't even wince when Natasha put one of her terrifying heels on the small of his back.

"Oh my God," Peter breathed. "She's...she's..."

Natasha walked across Bucky's long back, toe to heel with the flair of a dancer, leaving bruises in her wake. Peter's own muscles stiffened with sympathy, but Bucky didn't move a muscle.

"She walked across his back in stiletto heels," Peter murmured. Matt smiled.

"That's nothing yet," Matt said.

Natasha daintily stepped off Bucky, walking up to the narrow support beam on stage – no, Peter realized, it wasn't a support beam, it was for bondage.

"She's going to tie him up," Peter said, a little breathlessly. "Right there in front of everyone."

"You love being tied up," Matt said, hands on Peter's hips. "Held down and _used._ Would you like to be up there, with Madame Natasha, all those eyes on you? You'd be so beautiful, and make the prettiest little sounds..."

Peter squirmed, wrapping himself tighter around Matt as he huffed out excited breaths. Natasha snapped her fingers and Bucky rose.

Natasha cuffed his wrists, and slowly pulled on a rope, which pulled Bucky's arms up and out. His back unfurled, the skin gleaming in the stage lights.

"She's going to flog him," Peter murmured. The worst punishment he had ever received was the hard, flat wood of the paddle for being chatty. He did not like punishment – he much preferred basking in Matt's praise.

Natasha's strikes were well-practiced, landing with sharp cracks on Bucky's back and leaving brilliant red marks. Bucky did not move – Peter shuddered for him, hips twitching between Matt's hands. Matt soothed him with kisses to his throat and jaw, nipping things that kept Peter somewhat grounded.

"Like always, you're a rock, Bucky boy," Natasha said, scolding. "I think we need some more firepower for you."

"Yes, Madame," Bucky intoned, hands clenching. Natasha turned on her terrifying heel, leaving Bucky to hang. There was a stagehand, moving quickly, to place a silver bucket and a _fire extinguisher_ on stage. Peter furrowed his brows in confusion.

Natasha did not return.

"There's a man on stage, now," Peter said into Matt's ear. "He's tall and broad, and, ah, blond? Wearing a white button up, tight. He's holding a...a...cat o' nines?"

"That must be Steve Rogers," Matt said. "He owns _Avenger_. He'd love to meet a slender thing like you, but I'd be afraid he'd snap you right in half. Did they put out the fire extinguisher?"

"Yes," Peter said. Matt smiled.

"Then don't take your eyes off stage for a second," Matt said.

The excitement of the crowd of the crowd increased. Steve spun the cat o' nines around in his hand, and the lights caught something on the ends of each tail – thin, dark. Peter squinted, trying to figure out what they were.

Steve did not speak, just circled around Bucky. Bucky's shoulders tensed when he saw the cat o' nines, the first real movement he's made since he was tied up. Steve came back around, body rippling with immense power. Peter puffed out a breath, anticipation curling up his spine.

Steve leaned back, and barked out a single order, booming and unmistakable, "Feet further apart."

Bucky followed it immediately, back straightening like a steel rod. Steve regarded the picture, and stepped back, tilting the cat 'o nines up and pulling something out of his pocket. The lights went dim.

It was a lighter. There were wicks at the end of the tails. The club was illuminated by flame.

"He's going...going..." Peter stumbled. Matt kissed his hair, hands slipping under the shirt.

The first strike was louder than thunder, and Peter gasped and twitched as Bucky cried out. There was so much control and power in each of Steve's strikes – to not let the tails break the pale skin of Bucky's back, for the fire not to burn – and Matt's hands were so big, spanning up his ribcage where his heart fluttered like a bird.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Matt murmured. "Can't stop thinking about what it would be like if you were up there, instead of Bucky."

The fire streaked through the air, the grip of Steve's hand firm and sure. Bucky's face was tilted up again, staring into the lights, mouth agape and eyes wide. Matt was strong underneath him, and Peter clung.

"You need a different hand than Bucky, though," Matt said. "You view pain as punishment, while Bucky views pain as _reward._ "

Bucky was crying out, trying to stay as still as possible but obviously struggling. Steve's expression was stone.

"Steve would make you scream," Matt continued. "If you meet him on the street, you'd think he was the gentlest, kindest man on the planet. _He's not._ "

Peter flushed at the images filling up his head, of Matt and Natasha and Steve and Bucky and him, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the stage. He whimpered as Bucky screamed in ecstasy in time with the crack of the burning cat 'o nines.

"But I'd make sure you were taken care of," Matt promised. "Because you're _my_ sweet boy."

Peter moaned, and with a final crack of the cat 'o nines, Bucky sagged in his chains. Steve tossed the cat 'o nines down into the bucket, where a stagehand carefully put it out with the extinguisher. Steve undid Bucky's bindings, and Bucky fell to his knees like a doll with its strings cut.

Bucky crawled behind Steve as they left the stage to screams and applause.

"I want to get you home," Matt growled. "And fuck you until you lose your voice."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Peter chanted, and Matt kissed him roughly, viciously. Peter surged up into it, mind sparking.

 

-

 

They spilled into Matt's apartment, barely able to part for breath.

Matt was half dragging Peter to the bed, practically ripping off his clothes to expose more skin to grab. Peter was scrambling at Matt's own clothes, crying out at every kiss and bite. Eventually, they managed to get to the bedroom – after banging into several pieces of furniture, assuring Peter's morning would be full of fussing to make sure everything was back in its proper place.

Peter was thrown down on to his back, squirming bare against the soft silk, and Matt pinned him down with his superior size, teeth sinking into the long line of his neck. Matt, being the sneaky ninja that he was, managed to press two lubed up fingers inside him before Peter realized he grabbed the lube.

"You're perfect," Matt murmured as he fingered Peter. "Made just for this."

"For you, sir," Peter said breathlessly. " _Matt..._ "

Matt groaned, rolling on a condom and pushing inside. Peter wrapped himself around him, jolting with every powerful roll of Matt's hips.

"I could barely keep myself in check at _Avenger,_ " Matt hissed. "Knowing how excited the show made you, the thought of you _screaming_ like Bucky was...you are a dream, darling."

Peter moaned, every inch of them pressed together. They moved together for what felt like hours, Peter's own orgasm catching him off guard. Matt followed shortly afterwards, and they laid together panting.

After a few moments, Peter started laughing. Matt smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "What's so funny?"

"I don't even know anymore," Peter admitted. "My life is just...very different, than what I expected."

"I know that feeling," Matt agreed. "Come on, let's take a bath. I'll wash your hair."

He picked up Peter bridal-style, and Peter's continuing laughter filled up the apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> [Commission information ](http://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/post/121606093217/writing-commissions) [My Tumblr](http://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com)


End file.
